


Dinner for Two

by Soupernabturel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Restaurant, Aspiring Baker!Dean, Cas loves food, Castiel Loves Burgers, Dean Loves Food, Dean Loves Pie, Drabble, Famous Castiel, Fast Food, First Meetings, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Food Critic!Castiel, Food Kink, It's a Food Match in Heaven, Little bit of a Food Kink, M/M, Restaurants, Short & Sweet, waiter!dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-01
Updated: 2015-12-12
Packaged: 2018-04-29 08:19:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5121413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Soupernabturel/pseuds/Soupernabturel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean is a waiter, Castiel is a renowned hard-ass food critic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The entire restaurant held its breath as acclaimed food critic, Castiel Novak took the last bite of his meal, swallowed, then daintily wiped at his mouth with the corner of his napkin.

A collective hush fell over the restaurant staff, all huddled together on the other side of the service area. Benny the sous-chef, was the one to break the silence.

“I think he likes it.”

Several waiters and waitress’ murmured in agreement. Castiel Novak was renowned for his stoicism, his attention to detail and his harsh critiquing- all in all he was notoriously difficult to read. Benny’s assessment could have been just as right as it was wrong. The Schrödinger’s cat of restaurant reviews; only time would be able to tell.

But the pressure was on for the four-star restaurant. This review had to be perfect or Crowley would have all their heads.

Castiel Novak was scribbling notes down on a notepad.

“He’s done,” breathed Ellen, the manager, with something like relief. She straightened and turned to the rest of the staff. “but we’re not out of the woods yet, we’ve still got desert, Dean-”

Dean shot up straight, tearing his eyes away from the suited Food Critic sitting, writing in the dining area. He hadn’t gotten a good look at the man yet, but everything about him screamed ‘hard-ass’.

Ellen inclined her head out to the restaurant floor. “Go out there and make this a meal he won’t forget.”

Dean swallowed, a lead weight settling in his chest. This was good, he was a professional- he could do this.

A bad review from Castiel Novak was like a death sentence for any restaurant. And now the rest of the evening (so far so good) rested on Dean.

 

Without a backwards glance Dean pushed through the swinging doors, a towel draped over his arm. He knew his mission, his target, and made a beeline straight for the man, his heart intent on beating out a rumba in his chest.

He wasn’t prepared for Castiel Novak to acknowledge his approach, turning in his seat to face him- nor did he expect for the man to be…well… _hot_.

Hot enough for Dean to lose himself for a split second-

 

He tripped, reaching out to a nearby table for purchase and taking the whole lot with him.

 

The fall was particularly hard, and Dean particularly shaken up because of it. He realised what was going to happen maybe a millisecond before it did. The world slowed down as Dean fell down and  _shit_ \- Dean wasn't able to stop it.

 

Sprawled out on the restaurant floor Dean was pretty sure that there was a fork in his ass, and not in the good way.

 

Ow. That fucking hurt.

 

This was probably the single most mortifying moment of Dean's life and it could cost him that job.

 

"Are you alright?" someone asked.

 

Dean looked up and immediately his eyes fell upon a man with dark hair and spectacularly blue eyes.

 

Castiel Novak.

 

Dean blinked, dazed. "Am I-?"

 

"Alright?" Castiel asked, kneeling down beside Dean, "here let me help you."

 

Strong hands gripped Dean under his armpits, and even stronger arms hauled him up, all 6ft, 175lbs of him. Damn, Castiel could lift.

 

"I'm okay, I'm okay." Dean said trying to wave Castiel off, but Castiel- this stranger- was fussing over him, dusting him off, keeping a steadying hand on his hip.

 

Dean needed a little room to gather himself and Castiel seemed to sense that, stepping back and away (but still close). Dean knew his face was as red as paprika, the actual physical pain of tripping minimised in sight of his own mortification.

 

He stood smoothing out his apron, aware of almost all eyes on him, at least he was until he realised Castiel was down on the ground, picking up the cutlery, menus, and napkins Dean had pulled off the other table when he fell.

 

"No,"  Dean said getting to his knees, "don't."

  
"It's okay," Castiel said, continuing unperturbed. He collected the cutlery up with nimble fingers, wiping each blade, tonge and handle on his jacket. "Ten-second rule."

 

Dean was momentarily taken aback by the words, and the uncommonly deep voice that spoke them.

 

Dean licked his lips to reply. "You sure that's the right thing to say at a restaurant," he said gathering them all up, and taking the few from Castiel's hold. "People might think you're being serious."

 

Castiel huffed something that could have been a laugh, but Dean wasn't sure.

 

"I'm a critic not a health inspector," said Castiel leaning close, he put a gentle hand on Dean's wrist and led him up and to the table, giving him the seat opposite. "Are you sure you're alright? Here-"

 

Dean felt awkward, dressed in his button-up uniform and apron, sitting in one of the dining chairs as one of the cities most notorious food critics offered him a chair. "Oh umm, thanks I mean."

 

"You fell fairly hard," Castiel explained, actual concern in his voice.

 

Hard ass Novak was concerned about a complete stranger. Dean was floored, almost as floored as he was when he realised Castiel Novak was hot. 

 

Luckily he was sitting in a chair.

 

"Tell me the truth man," he asked lowly. His back was to the crew room and the kitchens but there was no mistaking just how much attention Dean's little stumble had caused. "They all glaring at me?"

 

Dean couldn't turn around, too afraid to see everyone cursing his existence. Ellen's disappointed glare, Meg's smug smirk, Benny sighing and shaking his head-

 

Castiel was peering over Dean's shoulder, a cute concentrated little pinprick between his brows. "Well they're all at the window, as your staff had been since the moment I walked in." Castiel seemed abashed by this, and looked down before clearing his throat and continuing. "The large bearded sous-chef is banging his head against the wall," Castiel cocked his head to the side, "the short brunette waitress, however, looks inordinately pleased." 

 

Dean put his head in his hands. "Oh god."

 

Castiel hummed a laugh behind closed lips, less mocking than it was consolatory. He had pink lips, Dean noticed, flat, forming a straight line when they pressed together. His blue eyes flicked in the low light and Dean felt a swoop in his chest.

 

Really the only way to get past this was for Dean to pick himself up and pretend it didn't happen.

 

Rising from the table, Dean shoved the dropped table implements into his apron pocket. "Okay so- can we, can I start again?"  he cast the food critic what he hoped was a charming smile, and nodded to the open notebook beside him. "I noticed you haven't written any of this down- pretty sure it's foodie law that it doesn't count till it's written down."

 

The corners of Castiel's eyes crinkled.

 

Encouraged, Dean smoothed his apron once more and showed off his best smile.

 

"What I'm supposed to say is, Hi, again, I hope you enjoyed your meal. Would you like to see our dessert menu?"

 

"What would you recommend?"

 

Dean blinked, unsure if that was the way this was supposed to go. Critics usually asked for opinions on wines, appetisers, to test and judge the waitresses and waiters, but usually they came prepared about the mains and deserts they wanted- requesting the best and then critiquing accordingly.

 

Everything could rest on this choice, his job, this restaurant. 

 

But Castiel was smiling at him so sweetly, patiently. He was genuinely interested in Dean's opinion.

 

Customers were never interested in Dean's opinion.

 

"I like the pie," he said, and wondered if he cheeks were as pink as Castiel's lips. "It's the house special, only place in the city that serves it."

 

"What flavour?"

 

"What?" 

 

Castiel grinned. "What flavour is the pie? Do you have a selection?" 

 

"Nah, just the one. Apple and cinnamon."   _it's my mums_ recipe _,_ Dean wanted to tell him, _Ellen lets me serve it because one day I'm gonna open up my own bakery, have my own place._

 

_You should come around sometime_ _when I get her up and running, you know, without the whole review angle._

 

"That sounds lovely," Castiel smiled, flashing pink gums. 

 

Dean found himself smiling in return. "You want Ice-cream with that?" he asked.

 

Cas'  expression shifted into something quizzical.

 

"It's not in the menu, but Benny keeps a tub in the fridge just really kicks you in the ass with the pie, but in a good way you know."

 

"So you recommend it?" Castiel asked.

 

You could blow Dean over with a feather in that moment- was that- was that a flirtatious note Dean detected there.

 

"Hell yeah."

 

Castiel smiled and nodded, and jotted a note down in his book.

 

Oh shit- yeah, Cas was here with a job to do.

 

And Dean had a job to do as well.

 

"Right well," Dean shifted on his feet and flashed his servers smile. "I'll just go get that for you."

 

"Thank you-"  Castiel stared, and Dean realised only after that he was looking at his nametag. " _Dean_. Thank you Dean."

 

Dean smiled, then headed to the back with purposeful (and sure-footed) strides, grinning the whole way.

 

He didn't get the chance to talk to Castiel after that, he had a job to do afterall, though when Dean served table number fourteen, he looked over at Castiel's table and saw him scribbling away in his notebook with one hand, spooning a large mix of pie and ice cream with the other.

 

Castiel was gone long before Dean's shift ended, and the restaurant was on edge (even more so after Dean's blunder) so Dean's shift ended late, late and exhausted.

 

But when a week later a shining review went out Ellen pinned it to the break room corkboard, a large smile on her face. She clapped Dean on the shoulder and told him 'good job'.

 

Dean bounded up to the board like an ecstatic kid, and read the review, printed out nice and neat, with his finger.

 

_'Delicious' 'Innovative'  'Wholesome but high class'. 'And the service,'_ Dean read, _'was unique, personalised and wonderful.'_

 

Dean's lips parted on his next breath, a painfully bright flush painting his cheeks. Wonderful, Castiel thought him _wonderful_.

  
Dean couldn't stop beaming all the way through his shift, and every customer he served was the more enraptured for it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This just proves that I easily succumb to peer-pressure, but I couldn't be happier for it.
> 
>  
> 
> Hope you all enjoy.

“Dean,” Meg said as greeting when Dean clocked in for his shift. She was leaning against the wall, hands on her hips, perhaps back from a smoke break, perhaps waiting for him.

 

“Meg.” Dean greeted, coupled with a nod.

 

Meg smiled, a Cheshire-like thing that split her face in such a way that it would be immensely pretty if the smile was every to reach her eyes. “Ellen wants to see you.”

 

Ellen want's to see you.

 

Oh boy, that didn't sound good.

 

“Why what's up?”

 

Meg's smirk widened. “Castiel Novak dropped by last night.”

 

_Again._ Dean thought fondly, _He came back again._ The first time Castiel had returned to the restaurant Dean had been shocked (and the whole restaurant up in arms, hadn't the notorious food critic already made his judgement). By the fourth time Castiel (now Cas) was found sitting in Dean's section, idly tapping his finger son a menu, already having chosen his dish (only the days pie, never a meal, never any other dessert) Dean and Cas had fallen into a comfortable comradely, Dean was almost say friendship, in their brief discussions over him taking Cas' order and Cas smiling so sweetly.

 

Cas' presence in Dean's section had gotten so regular that often when starting a shift and throughout, Dean found himself looking around, trying to pinpoint the dark mess of bed hair, the ill-fitting suit and trenchcoat, familiar with his favourite critic.

 

Now, almost a month after his initial visit, Dean was still surprised (pleasantly so) every time Cas chose to dine with them.

 

“Cas was here?” Dean said, unable to stop the disappointment edging into his voice. Cas was here and Dean missed him.

 

“Yep,” Meg popped her 'p' as though she was chewing gum. “He was here, found out you weren't and then he left,” she looked at Dean a little slyly. “Funny that.”

 

“He left?” Dean asked, “Without ordering anything?”

 

“Guess we didn't have what he wanted in stock,” Meg answered, and if real life were a cartoon, she would be twirling her moustache, waggling comically huge eyebrows. “I don't doubt that if he comes by tonight he'll order something.”

 

Very quickly Dean was not in the mood. He left Meg there with her smirks and her innuendo, and headed to Ellen's office, only to be greeted by the sight of Ellen pouring over order forms on her desk and Jo, her teenage daughter, lounging on the other chair, her boots kicked off exposing her holey socks.

 

“Hey Dean,” she said, and leant even further back in her chair.

 

“Hey Jo,” Dean greeted her, smiling. But the tense air of stress in the room caused his smile to dwindle. “Ellen, you called?”

 

“Yes, Dean-” she said, barely looking up at him as she jammed away at a calculator, “we need you to-”

 

“Ask Castiel Novak out.” Jo interrupted.

 

There was a swoop in Dean's chest accompanied by the appropriate amount of disbelieving outrage. “What?”

 

It was only then that Ellen raised her head, looking as sheepish as a single mother of a teenage daughter like Jo possibly could.

 

“No- well, yes just- we need you to have a word with him, he keeps coming into the restaurant, and every time we have to roll out the red carpet for him. Do you know what that kind of expectation does to a place?”

 

“He's stressing everyone out.” Jo added. “Garth almost killed himself trying to clean the sign out front for the third time this week. Benny's having an coronary and that's if he doesn't give himself a concussion first and all the damn man is ordering is pie!”

 

Ellen nodded, along, adding; “we have to have the display's full, the amount of waste he's causing,”

 

“-the stress.” Jo cut-in.

 

Dean gawped a moment then shut his mouth with a snapping sound. “What the hell does that have to do with me?”

 

“He's here for you dumb ass.” Jo said, wriggling her toes.

 

Ellen scowled at her. “Joanna-Beth. Language.”

 

Dean didn't miss the twinkle in Jo's eye, nor could he ignore the rising temperature in his cheeks. “Cas is not- he's not... _me_?”

 

“Yes dumb...dumb.” Jo snarked, making Dean cast her a sour glare. “Of course he's here for you, every time you're not working he walks back out like the place has a bad smell.”

 

That particular comment had Ellen fretting, Dean was a little distracted, his head feeling a little fuzzy with something that was growing warm in his chest to pay that the proper attention.

 

“Every time?” He asked, looking between the two of them. “That's happened more than once?”

 

“Yes.” Both Ellen and Jo groaned in unison.

 

Dean ducked his head, feeling a little too vulnerable, like walking down the street naked. Was it really that obvious?

 

Jo seemed far too amused. “What the hell did you think he was here for?”

 

Dean cast his eyes down lower. “...the pie.”

 

The snort Jo made was a little rude, but it was Ellen's head shake that had Dean drawing his shoulders up to his ears in a gesture of self-consciousness.

 

“Dean, son,” she said, for the first time, truly setting aside her work to look up and talk to him, “your pie is good, hell it's delicious, but not delicious enough to keep one of the countries most renowned food critics coming back for elevenths and twelfths of the stuff.”

 

“Fine,” Dean said, a little miffed. It was hard not to take offense, his pies were _everything._ “What the hell do you want me to do about it? Ban the guy from the restaurant?”

 

“Of course not-” Ellen said.

 

At the same time Jo suggested; “You could start by offering to go back to his and-”

 

Ellen cut her off and never was Dean happier for it. “You will figure out something to do about it.” she said with a determined enough tone so that it was an order a little bit more than a request.

 

“I'm not going to run this restaurant and everyone in it to the ground because a single critic has a crush.”

 

There wasn't much more to say after that.

 

Dean left her office his face burning.

 

oOo

 

 

“Oh God Castiel Novak's here.”

 

The whispers travelled through the restaurant, right to Dean and his station as he delivered a load of dirty plates to the kitchens for cleaning.

 

“ _Again_?” said someone to his right, probably Andy. Dean never liked him.

 

Donna was heading out, a wide kindly smile decorating her face. Dean abandoned his dishes and caught up to her, with a hand to her shoulder she paused.

 

“I've got it Donna.” he said.

 

Naturally, Donna offered no argument. “Okie dokie!” she said, letting Dean out.

 

Dean left the back room, pushing in through the front, a towel tossed over his shoulder, he smoothed out his apron with two hands.

 

And there was Cas, just as he had been for most of the last month, sitting at a table alone, waiting patiently.

 

Dean had thought many times over the last few weeks about what it would feel like to lean into Cas' body, feel the other man's long lashes brush his cheeks as they kissed, what it would feel like to run his fingers through thick charcoal hair.

 

Cas straightened in his seat when he caught sight of Dean.

 

“Hello Dean.” he welcomed soft and low, something private even in the crowded bustling room, just for the two of them.

 

“Hey Cas,” Dean said, though remembering Ellen's words, the warm humming in his chest stuttered. “Uhh, can we talk?”

 

“Of course Dean,” Cas said, Dean may have imagined it but an almost dreamy look spread across his features.“You know that I enjoy our chats- our time together.”

 

Dean shivered, gaining the sudden urge to reach out for Cas' hands, palm to palm, fingers threaded together.

 

The image left him quite dazed, enough that his next thoughts slipped through as words. “So ummm-what are your intentions?”

 

The corners of Cas' mouth kicked up. “My intentions?”

 

“What is this man?” Dean said, trying to recover ground. He cleared his throat. “You coming in here night after night, ordering my-some pie, putting everyone on edge.” Dean lowered his voice a little, aware that there were curious patrons nearby. “Ellen’s about one more visit away from pulling all her hair out.”

 

Cas ducked his head, lashes black curves along the ridges of his cheeks “I'm sorry, I didn't know my presence would cause such a disturbance.” he spoke quietly, studying the table setting in front of him, as if he was too shy to look at Dean. Or too chastised.

 

“No-Cas, that's not what I'm trying to- oh fuck it.”

 

Dean abruptly cut himself off when he bent low and pressed the chastest of kisses to Castiel's cheek. Warm soft lips to warm soft skin, scratchy with a light day-old stubble.

 

He drew away as quick the kiss happened, aware of the flush creeping up his neck, and of Cas' own stunned expression.

 

“Umm-” Dean said, pulling back. Reminded of where he was (work) and just how many people were around (a butt tonne) he cleared his throat and straightened his apron, flushed from his chest to his ears.

 

Cas opened his eyes. Dean drew in a breath, unaware he had stopped breathing. He licked his lips, desperate for any last trace of Cas, enough to stop him from jolting forward and getting fired for making out with the man of his dreams in the middle of the dining room.

 

“So umm, I get off at nine.” he said a little tentatively, emboldened when he received no discouragement.

 

Cas looked just as flushed, the usually stoic critic beaming up at Dean cheeks a faint pink. “Yes- that is- yes. Thank you Dean.”

 

“You wanna get out of here till then?” Dean palmed the back of his neck. “Can't see it but I know my crew's giving us the stink eye.”

 

“They are.” Castiel rose, little fuss, no argument. God he was awesome. “So...nine?”

 

Dean smiled, which seemed to ease some nerves that Cas had himself, for he straightened as he stood, and grinned showing his teeth.

 

“Nine.” Dean assured him.

 

“It's a date.”

 

Dean laughed at that, nervous, elated, mystified. “Yeah it is.”

 

He watched Cas leave, and by watched he meant _watched._

 

“Dean-” Cas said, turning back before he left entirely. His trench-coat shrugged back over his shoulders. “Could you save me some pie? I'll pay of course-”

 

Dean envisioned darting between the tables and grabbing Castiel's wrist halting him.

 

Dean envisions capturing Castiel’s wrist and halting him, tilting his chin, and kissing him. Oddly enough in his fantasy Cas tasted like pie, though it could have been a very real possibility, in the last few weeks Cas had consumed more pie than almost anyone Dean knew.

 

“Sure Cas.” Dean said, his cheeks hurt from smiling. “It's pecan tonight, made it this morning.”

 

Impossibly, Cas' smile widened.

 

“That sounds lovely Dean.” he said. “I will be here at nine.”

 

it was a promise and an assurance, Dean's heart gave a few violent thumps.

 

Maybe his pie was good enough to keep Cas coming back for more.

 

Cas' farewell smile kept Dean going right through his shift, and would keep him going for some time after.

  
  


 


	3. Chapter 3

The whole restaurant was staring.

 

And not for the reason Dean would mostly suspect- it was unlikely that a little McDonalds on the corner of Smith street at ten o'clock at night would have many patrons familiar with a food critic- even one as renowned as Castiel.

 

No- Castiel was digging into his third Big Mac with the amount of gusto Dean hadn't seen outside of some really choice video's on the internet- that definitely didn't have anything to do with food.

 

People were staring because it was like looking at a car crash and having Godzilla eat up the pieces.

 

“Dean?”

 

Dean shook his head to clear it, suddenly aware of Castiel's blue eyes on him whilst he still ate his burger. Impressively he hadn't managed to get any of the grease or ketchup on his shirt- his tie was flicked over his shoulder.

 

“I asked if you were going to eat that?” Castiel asked.

 

Dean looked down to where his own, almost untouched quarter pounder with bacon sat. Castiel, having finished his own burger was now eyeing Dean's hungrily.

 

“Uhh- nope.” said Dean and pushed his tray across the table.

 

Castiel dug in, taking bites that would leave a normal man choking.

 

Dean was impressed (maybe a little weirdly turned on -he liked to see his partners enjoying themselves okay? Sue him) but holding a small late night audience had put him on edge. He leant across the table and marvelled at how cute Castiel looked smiling at Dean from around a slab of burger meat and bun.

 

“Dude,” he hissed, keeping his voice low. “People are staring.”

 

Castiel took another large bite of his burger.

 

“Yes.” he said. Bite. Swallow. “It's possible someone has recognised me.” Bite.

 

Dean stared at him blankly. “Recognised you...”

 

Castiel shrugged eyes on his (fourth) greasy prize. “From the show last season, I was told it achieved good ratings.” Dean felt something inside of him flip, like a switch, the moment Castiel looked up at him, lips a little glossy from grease. “Kitchen Kings and Queens you might have heard of it.” said Cas.

 

Dean's stomach plummeted. “You were on _Kitchen Kings and Queens_?”

 

It was only the highest rated cooking show on TV in the last two years. Dean had watched every episode until it made him feel shitty about his own cooking skills and career and now he just kept abreast of the eliminated contestants each week through news and the internet.

  
  
Castiel nodded. “I was a guest judge for some of their challenges last season. I'm told I was presented as somewhat of a hardass.”

 

“You were on _TV_ and you didn't even _watch_ yourself?”

 

His burger clasped in both hands, Castiel arched an eyebrow. “Would you?”  
  


 

“Fuck yeah I would!”

 

Several patrons nearby glared at the loud burst of foul language. Castiel hid his smile behind some meat.

  
  
“I would too.” he said, looking at Dean in such a way that Dean himself felt a little bit like a burger.” Castiel licked at his lips (pink tongue, quick, slender, probably flexible as heck) and looked at Dean with lowered lids over his burger. “I think you have what they call- a face for tv.”

  
  
Dean shifted on his seat, was it suddenly hot in here? “It’s a face for radio,” he said, eyes averted. “And it doesn't mean what you think it means.”

 

Castiel just smiled, burger-y, and continued eating.

 

Dean looked down at his fries. He could have gone onto eating them (since after all Cas hijacked his burger and Dean would be mad at him for it if he weren't enjoying the shitty thing so damn much) but with the continued stares and now the true of Cas' fame and success, Dean was feeling the utter opposite of hungry- his stomach twisted into tight uncomfortable knots.

  
  
“Cas,” he managed. Voice quiet. “Why are you doing this man?”

 

  
“Doing...this?”

 

“Humouring me, going...” Dean cleared his throat, looking down. “Goingoutonadatewithme?”

 

  
“Pardon?”

  
  
“Date. Here with me. A waiter, a god-damn armature baker,” he gestured to himself with one hand, the other enclosed into a fist beneath the table. “Why, when you're-you're _Castiel Freaking Novak,_ you're famous you- you travel the world for a living, you've been on TV, hell you even have books on the shelves!”

 

“And yet here I am having a very pleasant evening enjoying a burger sitting opposite an utterly beautiful man.” Castiel's voice was stern. Dean couldn't look at him.

 

Some kid had stuck their discarded pickle onto the glass window. Dean watched it slide down an inch before Castiel reached over the table- breaking the silence.

  
  
“Dean” he said, and touched Dean's arm. His hand was warm and soft and a little messy- Dean wouldn't have had it any other way. “Has it escaped your notice for the last twenty five or so years that you are extremely attractive?”

 

  
Dean was overcome with a full body flush. He pulled his arm away and rubbed habitually at the back of his neck. “Well ah-yeah- I mean-”

 

“But that you are also kind, generous, self-sacrificing, funny,” Castiel went on. He gave a little gummy smile at 'funny' and chewed on his burger before continuing when his mouth was empty once more. “And that you contain more passion in one cell Dean Winchester, than most people do in their entire being?”

 

Dean maintained all the contours and dignity of a pink marshmallow.

 

“And your pies are delicious.” Castiel added as though an afterthought. “I would sell my soul for your recipe.”

 

He returned to his burger, hungry eyes intent.

 

He took three large chomps of the burger and that was when Dean's control snapped.

 

“You know umm, Cas-I don't put out on the first date,” Cas' eyes snapped up from his meal. A little bit of sauce was at the corner of his mouth. Dean wanted to get rid of it- preferably with his tongue. “But d-do you wanna climb into the backseat of my Baby with me and make out a little? Maybe?”

  
  
Castiel put down his burger.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and Kudos are love guys, thanks so much for reading!!
> 
>  
> 
> [My Tumblr](http://soupernabturel.tumblr.com)


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